It came very soon. The harsh buzzing of the ampliphone beside Ric's bed
jerked him awake. "Hello," he said sleepily. "Ric Martin...."
Then sleep was gone from him, as he listened to the voice of his Unit
Commander.
"Very well, sir. Yes ... yes, I understand. At once!" He slammed off
the switch and began dressing quickly. This was it! He'd been called
back to duty at two in the morning. In thirty-six hours the Coast Fleet
was to join the Chicago Fleet at a rendezvous a hundred miles in space,
and there prepare in battle formation.
"Wessell," he muttered. "I didn't think he'd really do it! Those poor
Martians...."
By the time he reached Government Spaceport, Ric's heart was bitter
within him. How could the plodding _Valiant_ hope to stand against even
two Units of Earth's Fleet? True, Wessell's move was in direct defiance
of the Council's edict, but he was moving swiftly! Ric had never
reached a decision as to what he, as a Captain in Earth's Fleet, would
do if Wessell attempted to carry out his high-handed plan. He had been
trained to obey orders implicitly and unquestioningly.
But this was wrong and Ric knew it was wrong. He made his decision now.
Setting down at the edge of the Spaceport, he hurried to the building
housing the tiny Patrol cruisers. These ships were swift and secret,
with tubes of the new allotropic metal recently found on Mercury.
Access to them could be attained only by special Government pass.
As he neared the doors, a guard stepped out of the shadows. The man
recognized Ric's uniform but he remained alert, hand hovering near his
parala-gun, as he gave a challenge.
"Wessell's orders," Ric replied tersely. "Emergency!"
"Sorry, sir. You know this requires special--"
"All right," Ric sighed. "Here's my pass!" He saw the guard relax for
an instant. Ric poised on his toes and unleashed a long left that sent
the guard staggering against the building. The man righted himself,
muttered an oath and came boring in. But already Ric was following
through with a vicious right; it connected with the angle of the
guard's jaw, and he went down. Then Ric was inside the doors, sprinting
down the corridor.
He found the hangar of the _Falcon_, a swift three-man cruiser which he
knew well. A glance at the power-board showed him that it was fueled
and ready. A minute later he was blasting upward, watching the city's
lights drop swiftly away.
Once in free space, he set the robot-control. It would be thirty hours
before he intercepted the _Valiant_ somewhere in its plodding path for
Earth. At least he could warn them! For he knew, now, that Wessell
meant to go all the way--utter annihilation for the _Valiant_!
And this meant revolt--the overthrow of Earth's Supreme Council!
Wessell had waited a long time for this, and there were men behind
him, ready to back him to the hilt. The Mars crisis had provided a
convenient spark.
But Ric wasn't thinking of Wessell now, nor the Earth Council, as he
settled down to watchfulness. He was thinking of two thousand Martians,
the last of their race, struggling to keep alive this last thin
life-line of survival. He was thinking of death in space. Even if he
warned them of Wessell's plan--where were they to go?
* * * * *
Hours later, his probing magni-finder picked out the _Valiant_ from the
depths of blackness. It was still vastly far away, a mere pin-point in
his V-Panel, but Ric cut acceleration. He watched the Martian ship grow
larger by the hour. He switched to his radio-beam and sent a message
through, but it remained unanswered.
It was still unanswered when he drew close enough to cut his rockets
altogether and go into a drift. Surely they were radio-equipped? There
was only one explanation. They simply weren't expecting a spacer out
here, so their beam was off power.
They wouldn't spot him, either. The _Falcon_ was tiny by comparison,
and solid black, undetectable against the backdrop of space. But he'd
have to get aboard the _Valiant_ some way! Slowly he brought his
cruiser beneath the great ship's hull. He was more than ever impressed
by the size of this Martian colossus.
And he was puzzled. There was something strange about this ship's
construction. It was more than merely clumsy, it was grotesque!
Carefully he eased along, examining it. For one thing there were too
many air-locks, even for a ship of this size. Ric shook his head in
puzzlement.
He began trying his tractor beam on those locks, tightening the beam
slowly. The locks held. Still he persisted, easing the _Falcon_ along
the hull; he had to gain an entrance somewhere! With any kind of
luck....
Then, somewhere amidships, one of the locks opened under the steady
pull of his beam. Slowly it swung outward. Ric's hands flew to the
controls. Carefully he eased the _Falcon_ forward and into the lock.
There was room to spare. The outer door closed and he heard generators
humming, automatically building up an atmosphere. Finally they stopped
and he knew it was safe. He leaped down from the _Falcon_.
The inner door was swinging back automatically. For a moment Ric
hesitated; then he stepped through, saw that he was in some sort of
control room. There were instruments such as he'd never seen in any
spacer! He stared around uncertainly. Then from behind him came a
queerly accented voice.
"Greetings, Earthman. But I won't say welcome, yet. You will please
turn around--slowly!"
* * * * *
Ric turned. A Martian holding a heat gun stepped from behind a bulwark.
The Martian came forward and the gun got playful with the third button
on Ric's tunic.
Ric had expected this. Naturally they'd be suspicious of an Earthman
aboard--but he could soon explain things. He stepped back a little from
the gun.
"I'm friendly. I must see Dar Mihelson at once! I come with urgent
news!"
"So? What news?"
"Wessell's massing the Earth Fleet. In thirty-six hours they'll be out
here to meet you. He'll never allow you to land on Earth!"
"So. Hear that, Kueelo?" He addressed a second Martian who was busy at
work over a bank of levers.
This man looked up and grinned, and Ric liked him even less than the
one crowding him. He especially didn't like the eyes. They were strange
and colorless, not quite Martian.
"Yes, I heard. Take care of him, Luhor; we haven't much time!"
Luhor surged forward, bringing the gun up. Ric swayed to the right, his
hands darted out and caught the man's free wrist; with the same motion
he twisted, and brought Luhor sailing across his body to crash into a
metal beam, where he slumped and lay still.
Kueelo had whirled, muttering an oath that certainly wasn't Martian.
Now he leaped for the free gun. Ric reached it a second faster, kicked
it out of reach. He parried Kueelo's fist--then sent a left to the
Martian's stomach and crossed with a right. The man was huge, and stood
his ground.
Ric danced back as Kueelo came boring in. He realized joyously that
this lesser, artificial gravity was an advantage. He sent a boxer's
left, long and weaving, to Kueelo's face, then a second and third,
that set the Martian off balance. Ric stepped in with a crashing
right-cross. Kueelo's legs went rubbery. Another smashing right and the
Martian's face lost contour; he whirled half around and slumped across
the bank of levers. Ric rolled his body away and stood looking down.
There were thirty of those levers, all numbered. They were large and
heavy, but just now they were all pulled up from their contacts,
revealing masses of coils and wires. Ric frowned, wondering what it
meant. He thought he knew!
Those wires could be easily fused or cut. Ric recognized sabotage when
he saw it....
He glanced at Kueelo. The man would be out for some time. He stepped
to the one called Luhor, bent quickly over him. The man was dead, his
skull crushed. Momentary panic flooded over Ric. After all, he could be
wrong; if he'd blundered, he'd have to account for this!
He rose, looked around for an inter-communication system. He couldn't
spot one. This ship was utterly alien to him. He did find another door,
however, and stepped out into a corridor.
Ric gasped. This corridor extended for well over half a mile ahead of
him, and as far behind--straight through the heart of the ship. This
was a colossus indeed! Far ahead he could see a few men moving about,
but if they noticed him at that distance they gave no sign of it. He
started to walk in that direction, but a crisp voice stopped him.
"Hold it, Earthman!" Something hard and heavy jabbed into his back.
"You are very careless, Earthman. Your blow stunned me, but Martians
recover easily. And you forgot to take the heat gun."
Ric shot a glance over his shoulder. It was Kueelo all right, he of the
colorless eyes.
"Martian? Phobian half-breed, you mean! Those eyes--"
"Never mind!" The gun jabbed harder. "No tricks with your hands this
time, if you want to stay alive. Turn around--slowly! Let us march in
the _other_ direction."
* * * * *
They walked along the empty corridor. Ric's mind was in turmoil. A
half-breed aboard this ship was unthinkable! They passed strange,
curved bulkheads abutting on the corridor. Ric couldn't understand them
either. Everything about this ship was puzzling.
"I'm really glad you came, Earthman. It makes my task easier!"
"You mean--"
"Yes. I shall leave the _Valiant_ to the Earth Fleet. But when that
happens _we_ won't be there." He chuckled. "You don't understand? But
you will--soon."
They paused before a bulkhead with "UNIT 26" blazoned on the door.
Kueelo rapped sharply. After a long moment the door opened slightly.
Kueelo thrust it wide, shoved Ric forward and stepped in quickly behind
him. Ric caught a glimpse of a dozen people in this room, men and women
alike. There were startled gasps as Kueelo waved the heat gun at them.
"Back! Move back all of you, and quickly! You, Earthman--get over there
with them."
Ric joined the group, saw a slow grin come over Kueelo's face. The
other Martians were stunned, speechless, partly at the sight of an
Earthman aboard but mainly because one of their kind stood there waving
a lethal weapon at them.
Then Ric heard a gasp from a Martian girl standing near him, and she
clutched at the arm of her companion.
"Tal ... it's he, the same one! He managed to get aboard!"
Kueelo flashed them a glance, bowed mockingly. "Yes. So our paths cross
again, Tal Horan. How fortunate for me!" His smile faded. "Naric! You
may come forward now. I shall need you."
A tall brooding Martian came from the group to stand at Kueelo's side.
He too produced a heat gun and helped to keep the others covered. He
jerked his head toward the inner corridor. "How did things go?"
"This Earthman interfered. Luhor is dead. It doesn't matter now, we
have to get away from here fast! Wessell is bringing out the Earth
Fleet!"
Ric heard mutterings about him and knew that any moment these two
renegades were going to have their hands full. Kueelo knew it, too. He
opened the door again and motioned the group through, as he and Naric
kept them carefully covered.
"You may stay and fight it out with your brave Commander," Kueelo told
them mockingly. "_We_ have plans a little less foolhardy ... no, these
two stay," he told Naric, indicating Tal Horan and the girl. "The
Earthman, too!"
One of the Martians leaped forward, making a try for Kueelo's gun.
Kueelo blasted him down calmly, the heat beam making a charred hole
completely through the man's neck. The others dragged him out, the door
clanged shut and the five of them were alone in Unit 26.
"Quickly now! They'll be giving the alarm! Naric, take the controls
while I release the plates. But first...." Kueelo faced the three,
holding a different type of gun, shorter and thicker. Without warning
he aimed it at the floor near their feet. A projectile burst, a pinkish
gas sprayed quickly up.
Ric tried to leap forward, but now he couldn't move! Intuition told him
to hold his breath. He glimpsed Tal Horan trying to support the girl as
she slumped to the floor. But Tal was going down too, slowly, his eyes
burning hatred. Then things blurred for Ric. Somehow he kept himself
erect as a shadow swayed toward him. His head seemed to burst, but he
knew it wasn't the gas ... it was Kueelo's gun crashing down....